Mayhem in the Third Degree
by BreakingSuperLock
Summary: Whoever said parenting was easy was either clinically insane or didn't know what a toddler was. Two hunters, an angel, and a toddler. A series of baby fluff oneshots that will lead to Destiel. FINALLY UPDATED.
1. Sass

**So here's yet another installment. I think that from now on, rather than posting each oneshot separately, I will add them onto this story as a chapter-by-chapter thing.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Abigail is my own original character, however.**

 **Possible trigger warnings: This saga is going to be 99 percent fluff, but this installment does contain references to past child abuse.**

Shortly after Dean and Cas returned to the bunker with Abigail and the things they had bought for her, she fell asleep on the couch. Dean wasn't sure if she would fall or not, and he didn't have a crib, so he put the toddler in his bed.

She was still wearing her jeans and sweater that she had been wearing all day, but he didn't want to wake her up for the second time that night and let her be.

When Abigail was settled in the comfortable bed, she scooted toward the head of the bed and snuggled into the closest pillow.

Dean readied himself for bed, changing into a tee shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Then he turned the light off and slipped into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow and he pulled the blanket up, Abigail rolled over until she was against his side.

"Oh. Well… okay." Dean shifted his arm and Abigail immediately abandoned her pillow to rest her head on his bicep. When she was comfortable, she let out a happy huff between her very quiet snores.

She _was_ pretty cute.

* * *

To Dean's surprise, the toddler slept through the night. At eight thirty in the morning, he heard a rustling sound next to him and opened his eyes to see the tiny girl sitting upright.

She smiled shyly when her eyes met Dean's. "Up?"

"Yeah. I'm up." Dean yawned and stretched as he sat up. "You hungry?"

She nodded. "Brekky!" She scooted backwards and lowered herself to the floor. When Dean stood, Abigail lifted her arms and he carried her to the kitchen.

Nobody else was awake yet and Dean let Abigail sit on the counter. "What do you want to eat?"

The toddler looked very thoughtful for a few moments. "'Tambled eggies!"

"Scrambled eggs?"

Abigail nodded in approval.

"Do you like bacon?"

The baby's jaw nearly hit the floor. Amused, Dean took her response for a yes and took a carton of eggs and a pack of bacon out of the fridge. Abigail watched him from her perch on the counter, swinging her bare feet and humming.

A few minutes later, the food was ready. Dean prepared her a small plate and set it on the table, along with a larger helping for himself and a sippy cup of milk for Abigail.

A booster seat or high chair hadn't been on the shopping list the previous night, but Dean found a thick book they never used and set it on a chair for Abigail to sit on.

The toddler didn't seem to care about the makeshift booster seat and enthusiastically dug into her breakfast.

"You like food. Looks like we have something in common, then."

Abigail giggled around a bite of bacon. They were soon joined by Sam, who looked amused at the sight of the pair eating their breakfasts with nearly identical looks of contentment on their faces.

"What's funny?" Dean asked his brother, with his mouth half full.

"It's like you have a mini-Dean next to you."

"Are you saying I act like a little girl?"

"If the shoe fits…"

"Dude, no."

Sam fixed himself a bowl of fruit and joined his brother and niece at the table. "Did Cas leave last night?"

"I guess. He vanished after we got home with all the stuff we bought. He zaps me to the store, puts all kinds of stuff in the cart, doesn't pay, and doesn't even help unload."

Sam chuckled at the irritable tone of his older brother's voice. "I guess that's Cas for you."

"Angels, man."

"Did I hear my name?"

Dean jumped and scowled. "Is there no such thing as a private conversation anymore?"

Cas shrugged in indifference. "I can overhear any conversation that I choose, whether I am present or not."

"We know."

The angel took a seat at the table. "Did Abigail sleep well?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "She went out like a light."

"Good." Cas smiled as he observed the toddler.

Dean finished his breakfast first and carried his empty plate to the sink.

Abigail was almost finished, but her elbow hit her plate and it fell to the floor. It didn't break, but its contents spilled on Abigail and on the floor and her eyes filled with tears.

"Oops…"

"No problem. Messes happen." Sam stood up and grabbed several wet paper towels to clean up the mess.

Nevertheless, the tiny girl sniffled and whimpered when Dean leaned over to pick up the plate and her empty cup.

"Hey, it's okay. It's not even a big mess," Dean shared a worried glance with Sam and Cas when the toddler was not consoled. "No need to cry over spilled eggs, right?" Abigail was still shaky as Dean picked her up. "Let's get you cleaned up. You've been wearing that since you got here last night, so you probably wanna change."

The little girl sniffled but was no longer crying as Dean carried her out of the room. He grabbed a clean diaper out of the package. "Ready for a bath?"

Nodding, she allowed him to remove the thin sweater she was wearing. She wore only a tank top beneath it and Dean immediately frowned at the sight of a blue, hand-shaped bruise on her bicep.

The removal of her top revealed three older bruises on her ribcage.

Now everything made sense.

He'd had his suspicions, which were confirmed now. Her hesitance to ask for things and her panic when she had spilled her breakfast were explained by the bruises.

Dean was half-surprised by the intensity of the anger that quickly rose within him. Anyone who would hurt any child was a sick bastard and Abigail was a sweet, obedient child.

He put on a smile so that Abigail wouldn't assume his anger was directed toward her. "Who did that to you? Did someone hit you?"

Abigail looked at the bruises and hesitated before she answered. "David…"

"David? Who's that? Is he your mom's husband?"

Abigail nodded slightly.

"Okay. I'll definitely deal with him soon." Dean picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. He took off her slightly soiled diaper and tossed it into the trash before he turned on the water. "Does that feel good?" he asked once the water was warm.

Abigail dipped a hand into the water and nodded. Dean settled her in the tub and found a bar of soap, silently reminding himself to buy soap and shampoo meant for toddlers.

The little girl amused herself by patting the water as Dean bathed her, taking caution when he reached the fairly recent bruise on her arm. When the baby was clean, he lifted her out of the tub. He draped a thick towel around her and dried her off, then carried her back to the room.

After setting Abigail on the bed, Dean found the shopping bag that contained her new clothes and set it in front of her.

"Pick out what you wanna wear."

Abigail sorted through the bag and settled on a tiny pair of sweatpants and the bumblebee shirt Cas had chosen. "This?"

"If that's what you want." He put her in a clean diaper and the outfit she had chosen.

Once she was dressed, Abigail yawned and stretched. "Nappy…"

"Go ahead." It was still early and a short nap wouldn't do any harm. It actually sounded appealing, because if Abby fell asleep, Dean could be outraged over his discovery without frightening her.

"Kay." The toddler yawned again and curled up on her side.

Once Abigail was sound asleep, Dean scooped her up and carried her to the living room, where Sam and Cas were talking. "Sam, Cas, look at this." He gestured to the bruise on Abby's exposed bicep.

Sam's eyes widened and Cas frowned.

"She said her mom's husband did that. There's more on her ribs." Dean's voice was thick with venom as he carefully settled the tiny girl on the couch. "Once she's more settled in, I'm tracking the freak down."

"They're probably across the country by now, but if you go to social services, you could find out," Sam mused.

Cas sat down on the couch and drew the toddler into his lap. In her sleep, Abigail snuggled into his abdomen. Cas pressed his fingertips to her forehead and a moment later, the bruises were gone.

"Thanks, Cas."

Cas started to hand Abigail back to Dean, but the sleeping toddler protested by grabbing Cas's trench coat in her hands. "Why is she doing this?"

"I think she likes you."

"Oh." Cas looked pleased and allowed the baby to make herself comfortable on his lap.

"Seriously. I don't care if it takes me a month, but I'm finding the guy and giving him a piece of my mind. I'll go to social services and see what they tell me."

Abigail had somehow managed to tuck herself under Cas's coat in her sleep. He gently tried to pry it out of her fingers, but her grasp was tight and she curled up even closer and Cas gave up.

"She really likes that freaking trench coat."

Cas nodded. "It is a nice coat."

Abigail napped for half an hour before she woke up, sitting upright and blinking lazily at Cas. "Hi!"

"Hello." Cas awkwardly returned the wave. "I haven't introduced myself properly, have I? I'm Castiel."

"Cassy?"

"Castiel."

"Cassy."

Dean snorted. "Looks like you have a new name, Cas."

Abigail amused herself by playing with the collar of Cas's coat. She turned it up and giggled. "Pretty!" Then she grabbed the angel's tie and managed to unfasten the knot, leaving the tie crooked and loose.

"Why are you rearranging my clothes?"

"Pretty!" she repeated.

"She's making you pretty, Cas. She told you that once."

"Yes, Dean, I understand that." Cas rolled his eyes.

"Okay, then. Angel's getting sassy."

"I am not becoming sassy," Cas argued.

"Yeah, you are! I saw that eye roll."

Abby looked put off as their attention was directed away from her and toward their argument. She wasn't even two yet, but she had already realized that this was going to become a regular thing.

Bored, she wandered out of the room.

 **Oh, my... I sense mischief in the future? Do YOU sense mischief in the future? WHO KNOWS?**

 **Oh. I do.**

 **Review, little turds. It takes a nanosecond and makes it rain chocolate on Jupiter. I will take everyone to Jupiter if you review.**


	2. Crayola Makeover

**Author's note: Long time no see.**

 **If y'all are confused, check out my oneshots Of Medicine and Soiled Trenchcoats and Escape to Walmart. They'll clear everything up for this series.**

 **Disclaimer: Abigail is my creation. I don't own SPN.**

 **Contains gay ships, fluff, and little else. Minor language**

By the time Abigail had been in the bunker for a week, they had grown somewhat accustomed to the toddler's existence.

Dean still had no recollection of her conception, but there was no denying that she was his. How was he supposed to raise a kid, though? Sure, he had pretty much raised Sam from infancy to teenhood, but that was different. This kid was his own spawn.

"Dean!" Cas yelped from the living room. "She is doing something!"

Shit.

Dean rushed out of his bedroom and found Cas sitting on the couch. He immediately burst out laughing. Abigail sat on Cas's lap, a purple marker in her left fist. Cas's face was adorned with the toddler's handiwork.

"You look fabulous, Cas. The prettiest angel of them all."

"Dean, I look disgraceful!" Cas protested. "She maimed me. What if it does not come off?"

"Oh, come on. You think I'd let a two-year-old have friggin' permanent markers? It'll wipe right off." Dean sat down. "But you look great."

"I believe you might be teasing me." Cas glared at him. Abigail giggled and dragged the marker across Cas's forehead, leaving a bright purple streak. "Ouch. Please, be gentle."

"Sowwy!" Abigail loosened her grip on the marker and added another stripe to Cas's face, this time more softly. "Purple tiger!"

"Do I resemble a tiger?"

"Purple tiger!"

Dean snorted. "A _purple_ tiger, Cas, for God's sake. Get it right."

"If you insist." Cas sighed and gave in as Abigail switched to a pink marker and colored his fingernails with it. "When is Sam returning with less… marker-necessitating activities?"

"He should be back any minute." Dean grinned ear to ear as he took a picture of Cas. "This could replace my Playboys. You look like a goof."

Cas looked offended. "She is vandalizing my vessel, Dean," he huffed, holding still as Abigail scribbled on his palms with a blue marker. "Why did you purchase markers? Crayons would have been more practical, because they wouldn't have left a mark on skin."

"I didn't get crayons because toddlers eat crap, Cas. Like crayons. I'm not about to run to the ER so they can cut a box of crayons of out my kid's intestines."

"I suppose that makes sense." Cas sighed in defeat when Abigail changed markers again, this time to a green marker. She scrawled smiley faces on each of his cheeks.

"Done!" she sang, leaning back to admire her handiwork. "Colors!" She pointed to each scribble. "Purple, g'een, pink…"

"She does seem rather intelligent for two," Cas noted.

"Yep. Don't know where she got it."

"You are intelligent, Dean. Surely she inherited it from you." Cas accepted the wipe that Dean handed him. He began wiping at his face, hoping to remove the marker.

Dean bit his lip, trying not to laugh as Cas wiped at his face, mostly succeeding in smearing it across his face. "You might need soap and water."

"Why?" Cas frowned. "Am I still tainted?"

"Nope." Dean smiled innocently. "Your face is as pure as a baby's butt. Spotless. I was joking."

"I believe you are full of shit, Dean Winchester."

Dean stared at him before he laughed loudly. "You think, angel?" He grinned and patted Cas on the back, watching as Abigail put away her markers. Then she sat down on Cas's lap and leaned back against his chest.

"Is she going to sleep?"

"Probably. Most kids are worn out after giving a fallen angel a Crayola makeover." Dean propped his feet up on the coffee table. "She really likes you. Trying to steal my kid, huh?"

"No, not at all. She is a sweet child." Cas gently touched his fingers to Abigail's temple. "Innocent. We must protect her at all costs."

"Yeah, no kidding." Dean fell silent for a while. This was why he never planned on having kids. He loved kids. He wanted that life. And now he might very well have it. But he had _his_ life. Even if he tried, he couldn't throw it all away.

He couldn't stop fighting evil. There was too much of it in the world for him to stop. But he knew that if he stayed in the hunter's life, it would without a doubt become part of his daughter's life. He didn't want that for her. But if he stopped, it would only mean that danger would run even higher.

Life would be so much easier if kids came with a manual.


End file.
